The Plod

The Plod

Exiled Valiant Barry Edge lives in Perth, Western Australia and is a regular columnist for onevalefan. In this poem Barry illuminates a Forum post, dated August 30, 2002, in which Vayurl tells of his close encounter with the local constabulary.


For Vayurl it had been a forgettable game, and in sombre mood he made his way down Hamil Road, Burslem. Surely nothing else could go wrong? Then he went to walk across the street…

The Plod

He’d been watching the game and wasn’t impressed,
And whilst walking home was feeling quite vexed
That he’d spent good money on a football match
Where neither side were up to scratch.

At the bottom of the hill in Hamil Road,
And still totally absorbed in thoughtful mode,
He heard a voice both loud and uncouth
Shouting this warning ‘GET OFF THE ROAD, YOUTH’.

Oblivious the warning was meant for him,
And in a hurry to get home to kin,
He was standing and waiting to cross the street
With the passing traffic just missing his feet.

From the corner of his eye he saw a young plod
And thought he’d extend a wink and a nod,
But the policeman was yelling with utter contempt
‘GET OFF THE ROAD’ with fury hell bent.

The young plod’s demeanour was aggressive and rude,
But our true blue believer was not in the mood
After watching a game that was rubbish and more,
And had tested his emotions right down to the core.

It was sarcasm now that had become the norm
With our young Valiant hero truly on form,
For he challenged the policeman to help him resolve
The best way to cross to the other side of the road.

By now our Vayurl was in top gear
And was about to remove the young plod’s sneer,
‘If I can’t walk across there is another way,
But I forgot my levitation pill today’.

Then our Valiant friend had another bright thought
In suggesting the policeman could be a good sport
By carrying him across, that it really wouldn’t hurt,
That all such deeds were all part of his work.

The bobby was searching for words to say
When a second young plod joined in the fray
And begged the question ‘Problems with this one?’
Whilst Vayurl continued to enjoy the fun.

Then the first young plod stuck out his chest
And warned they could place him under arrest,
But our Valiant friend would have non of it,
Arrest him for what? Taking the mick?

The second young plod started to lay down the law,
But by now our Vayurl was ready for war,
And standing fast in the middle of the street
Was convinced these ’boys would not be giving him grief.

Now our Valiant friend wanted rid of the plod
To make his way home to ‘kick the dog’,
And after seeing a match both tame and sad
The policemen’s best couldn’t be that bad.

Whether policemen or not, even Tony Blair,
To treat one with kindness is only fair,
And not to be tarnished with that yobbo excuse
To be yelled at like rubbish and by hurling abuse.

With the evening fading in the northern sky
He told them to ‘go forth and multiply’,
Then turned on his heels and made his escape
Leaving both agog and adrift in his wake.

Barry Edge
Western Australia
August 27, 2002


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